Flames of Youth
by Yoshtar
Summary: Four heroes from across time have been summoned to combat the rising darkness threatening to engulf all of Remnant. banding together, these four warriors of blackened soul must fight the grimm and banish the darkness once again, before the flame goes out again. worked on only in spare time, so updates will be sporadic and far between. rated M for dark themes and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Four figures struggled and stumbled their way through the solid Fog that was surely a one-way door. After this point, there would be no turning back.

In the centre was a fur-clad, barefooted figure, taller than any of them and hunched over the dying embers of the oldest bonfire they had seen.

When the four stepped through the door and into the Kiln, the figure straightened and turned towards them, showing a once-resplendent crown atop his head.

As the Sunlord Gwyn turned, the greatsword in his fist, wielded by the great Lord like a common longsword, lit up with a mere spark of what the flame had once been. It was still more than enough to decimate any of them with a mere scratch.

Skills and instincts that had been honed during the nightmarish trek through Lordran kicked in, and the four sprang into action, ready for the fight of their lives.

* * *

><p>When the fight ended after several minutes of frantic combat, as Gwyn's lifeless body hit the floor, the power within burning it to ash; the four undead champions could only blink in indifference. They had been here before, and every time they had overcome this ancient champion, and every time; time had been reset and they awoke once more in the Asylum.<p>

The four figures exchanged a glance. Finally, they were here. Finally, they could banish the darkness in this land and finally, they could break this maddening cycle.

This was what they had plotted, prepared and planned for.

A sword made of a strange material appeared in the centre of the large, ash-covered arena, bones of what were presumably undead stacked neatly in a pile at its base.

Though the promise of a final respite, especially after such a fight, was tempting, none of the four figures moved towards it with any intention to ignite it, let alone rest at it. They knew of this trap, and would not be caught in the cycle once again.

That would be risky in the extreme; they had no clue whether this would work, but if it did, they could hopefully return to the lives they left behind. The mere thought of that wistful dream spurred them on.

Each pointed their hands at the bonfire, and slowly small black sprites bubbled up from under their skin, only to be caught and bound by the powerful magic being woven. This was true magic, from an ancient source documented in a single book in the entirety of the Duke's library that had taken many cycles to find.

The humanities began to coalesce into a single, much larger sprite, growing larger and larger until the fist-sized sprites had all joined into a spirit the size of the four who had created it.

The magical bonds tightened and the spirit coalesced and condensed and began to burn. Now, in its current state, it resembled a soul the size of a basketball that burned black instead of white.

It was the closest thing that they would find to the original Darksoul: several hundred humanities all condensed into one.

But as most anyone knows, having fuel for a fire was not enough. One needs a spark to get it going.

Hundreds of thousands of souls drifted out of the four, surrounding the Darksoul. It had taken the four months of slaughter to collect this many, and they sorely hoped that this would work.

The souls span faster and faster around the imitation Darksoul, until none could make it out between the whirlwind of tiny white flames.

Suddenly the entire collection shot downwards right onto the final embers of the first flame with a blinding flash.

The four blinked the light out of their eyes and felt their hearts soar: the bonfire was blazing all the way to the hilt of the four-foot long sword with a merry fire, filled to the brim with estus.

"It worked! I can't believe it wor-" one of them, the mastermind of the plan in fact, exclaimed before a loud 'WHOOSH' interrupted her.

Suddenly, the flames from the newly-rekindled First Fire leapt to the roof of the cavern in a great pillar of fire. They had underestimated the size of the first fire, though the melted pillars outside should have tipped them off.

There was no way they could make it out in time.

The four began to back away and make for the door as the flames started to creep along the floor.

They got halfway before the explosion.

* * *

><p>The four chosen undead never returned to the surface, and after a week, their companions dispersed from Firelink Shrine and wandered towards the outside realms.<p>

The bonfires had gone out, and could not be relit. All of them. Their power had seemingly withdrawn to never grace the world again. The firekeepers had died as a result, their souls and their myriad humanities being drawn in by the second flame as it consumed everything of the first flame.

Historians would note the sacrifice of the four champions only by the Undead who managed to return from Lordran.

Few details were ever revealed of them, the tellers or of the heroes, their names and identities lost to all time, but they held the story that defied belief as absolutely true.

Time continued on, as always, and millennia passed; kingdoms rose and fell in that time, and the sacrifice of the undead was all but forgotten, though the protective light of the second flame protected humanity for many generations to come.

But as all things do, the light eventually faded, and monsters once again stalked the realms, scattering humanity into four kingdoms, and all light of hope was fading.

* * *

><p>"Four rose coloured soapstones... four lost sigils... if the two could be reunited, the lost champions of the dying last age shall rise once more..." Ozpin looked up from his notes, at the four sigils, each a collection of symbols that radiated strange power.<p>

Each reacted when he brought one of the crystals close, which eventually shot towards the sigil, violently embedding itself within the largest of the symbols.

"Who would have guessed Beacon was on such a historic site?" he said aloud, more voicing his thoughts than asking an actual question.

the sigils lit alight, each a fist size fire tinged with motes of green every now and then. Ozpin could feel, rather than see, that this was no ordinary flame; it felt primal, and centuries old. the heroes were nowhere to be found however and the fires gave no hint either and simply sat there and burned... like most fire, though they consumed no noticeable fuel.

"It must need time. These sigils have to reach across eight millenia to find these four heroes." he concluded.

"I suppose you want me to watch over them whilst we wait for them to work?" Goodwitch asked.

"If you would be so kind," Ozpin replied.

"The things I do for you-" Goodwitch remarked.

"I know, I know." Ozpin interrupted her.

* * *

><p>Ruby Rose lay awake in bed that night, knowing, deep down in her gut, that something big was going on.<p>

She couldn't tell what, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, long time, short chapter, possibly angry readers. All is to be expected as I try and get myself back into the swing of regular writing now that I have somewhat passable Internet, and my Muse appears to return.**

**no shit, my long silence was borne from equal parts shattered self-confidence, attempting to work crappy writing out of my system, and a lack of motivation/inspiration.**

**to you loyal readers, I thank you, and hope you can understand.**

* * *

><p>The day had not progressed well for Ruby, as a lack of sleep the previous night had translated into being barely being able to keep her eyes open.<p>

She was essentially running on sugar and caffeine; which, as many people can tell you, is nasty, but sometimes necessary state of being.

Her team was worried, but not overly so, pegging it on a small bout of insomnia.

So RWBY slogged through the day.

As Lunch time rolled around, a sight of relief was breathed by team RWBY. Apparently Blake had a solution for their leaders sluggishness.

"Are you sure, Blake? This doesn't look exactly... good for me." Ruby asked, skeptic of the properties Blake had claimed of the frothy brown liquid in the mug in her hands.

"It probably isn't, and it tastes terrible, but when I had to go for... extended survivalist camping trips with little time for resting, it kept me running." Blake admitted. RWBY knew what she was talking about.

"What's in it?" Weiss asked.

"A few roots, some herbs, a little juice from some berries and even a tiny bit of some select mosses. I learned the recipe from a crazy old woman back when the White Fang ran protests instead of robberies. It works, but it takes medicine to a whole new level of nasty." Blake reassured.

"Where'd you get that stuff?" Yang asked.

"Beacon is surrounded by impenetrable forests on three sides, and you ask me where I get a 'fruits of the forest' remedy?" Blake replied, arching her eyebrow.

"I guess it's this, or fall asleep in Port's class later." Ruby said, raising the mug to her lips.

The drink was nothing but bitter in all the worst ways. Ruby almost spat it out.

"I'd sweeten it, but apparently that ruins the effect." Blake explained. "The cure beats out the disease any day."

"I'll say," Ruby said, pawing at her tongue to try and get the taste off.

They were interrupted by shouting before the conversation could continue.

"Hey! Whose sword is that?"

"Put it away before Goodwitch gets here!"

* * *

><p>Florence pulled herself off of the stone floor as she blinked herself awake by sheer force of habit.<p>

Her ears were ringing slightly, but she could make out voices.

Taking stock of her surroundings, she could make out the interior of a large structure resembling a church somewhat, though the tables with plates of food present identified it as a mess hall of some sort.

There were a number of young-looking people surrounding her, younger than her by a few years at least. Many were on the cusp of their adulthood.

There was murmuring and chatter, and whilst it sounded familiar, she couldn't recognize what language it was... or she didn't know it, one of the two.

A pair of large doors at the end of the building banged open and a blonde woman who gave Florence flashbacks of some of the stricter teachers in the dragon college, if those teachers had just had their costume party interrupted, stormed through the doors.

Instinctively; Florence knew to fear this woman.

The angry disciplinarian began shouting in the same foreign language as the others, and they parted to let her through and even backed off slightly.

Her tone softened, slightly, as she addressed Florence and her companions, but only got blank stares in return.

"We can't understand you, do you speak Astoran?" Lukas asked.

All he got in reply were several confused looks and a string of babble that made no sense to their ears.

"Try speaking Deltoran, some of that sounds... similar to a dialect popular amongst the youth in the Five Finger Delta." Elric said. "Though there are plenty of words I don't know."

"You speak Deltoran?" Melanie asked incredulously.

"Enough to make a few silver off of selling hides and firewood, but not much more than that, I'm afraid." Elric replied. "Anyone else familiar with Deltoran?"

Surprisingly, it was Melanie who spoke up. "I could hold a conversation in it, the parents of one of my friends growing up could only speak Deltoran. I'm not fluent by any stretch of the imagination and I never travelled there to pick up dialects."

"Worth a shot," Florence said. "Ask them where we are. I'm convinced that this is not Lordran."

Melanie rattled off a hard-to-follow string of words and was met with a response in kind.

"I'm not 100% certain, but I think she said we're in the kingdom of 'Vale'." Melanie translated.

"Never heard of it."

"She said that she would take us to someone who would explain what's going on." Melanie elaborated.

"Lead the way. We're about as lost as that time we got stuck in the Tomb of Giants and Patches stole the lantern." Florence said. "I don't need to remind you of how bad that was"

"Don't remind me." Melanie said before translating for Florence.

* * *

><p>Ozpin could practically feel the wave of warm energies as it breezed through his school. His scheme was coming together.<p>

It did not surprise him when Glynda sent a message shortly after telling him that the marks had disappeared, along with the soapstones. He had been expecting that.

His scroll soon beeped afterwards, alerting him to a large disturbance in the cafeteria.

That would be the ancient heroes. No doubt that Glynda would bring them to him.

He sat behind his desk, occasionally sipping from his mug and had nearly ran out of coffee when there was a knock on his door.

"Here goes nothing," Ozpin murmured to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**[Florence's POV]**

* * *

><p>It was a welcomed surprise to find that the older man that we had been taken to could speak Astoran, no matter how haltingly, or horribly mispronounced some of the words were.<p>

It was somewhere to work from.

The grey-haired man, who had introduced himself as 'Professor Ozpin' (which gave me flashbacks to the Vinheim Dragon College... again), had apparently been trying every alley of opportunity, having seen signs that the fire we had sparked was fading as well. Unfortunately, the knowledge of how the fire was ignited died with us, especially once Lordran rapidly fell into ruin, what with all the occupants either dead, horrible mutants and demons, or hollow, and said that he had used rare soapstones to find our summoning signs and permanently summon us.

Apparently, the enarest he could figure, with Manus dead, none of us standing as the dark lord, and the light still strong enough to prevent The Abyss from forming, the darkness had eddied and coalesced into dark creatures that were called Grimm, which were drawn to negative emotions and were out for human blood.

Ozpin asked us to attempt to travel down to the kiln to try and maintain the fire to stop the nightmare that was Lordran in the twilight years, the world that we had known the accursed place from re-occurring.

He had mentioned that we had several thousand years to catch up on, which we were sceptical of before he handed us each odd devices that, judging from the absurd number of impossible abilities it possessed, from communicating over incredible distances to being able to take instantaneous, realistic portraits (especially the ones that moved) and much more, seemed almost miraculous if Ozpin hadn't reassured us (in that jarring, halting grasp of Astoran he had) that they were manmade, and that everything that made them work was a real, physical thing.

Lukas, our resident paladin, wasn't convinced.

It was late and the sun had begun to set over the horizon when the Old man finally let us go, and the strict woman (who we found was named Professor Goodwitch, which begged the question of there being a 'Badwitch' somewhere) guided us to a spare dormitory to spend the night at.

* * *

><p><strong>[Early the next morning]<strong>

* * *

><p>Ozpin approached the door to the room that he had given to the chosen heroes. He would be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat excited at the prospect of working with the four great heroes who had once reversed the coming darkness centuries ago. They must have been—correction: <em>be<em> founts of ancient and arcane knowledge. Who knew what could be accomplished with even small bits of 'new' information in the right hands. Penicillin was discovered by accident after all.

He knocked on the door and waited for a response. Ozpin quickly pulled back from the door as the response came in the form of two large, sharp-looking knives erupting from the hardwood door with a loud_** BANG**_, like someone had struck the door with a hammer. Ozpin's ears barely caught the soft hissing of a fuse burning and he reflexively braced himself as the door exploded outwards in a shower of fire and splinters, his aura thankfully mitigating the worst of the damage.

Ozpin looked around and saw several students poking their heads out of their dorm rooms, some still half-asleep and wondering what the noise was, others with their weapons on-hand and ready to respond to whatever had caused such a loud explosion this early in the morning.

Waving his hands to clear the smoke as the sprinklers doused everything in water, Ozpin finally caught sight of the four heroes.

Sitting upright in their beds, having reacted to the disturbance in their sleep, were four fully-clothed Undead, sheepish looks on their faces and arms outstretched from having thrown their weapons and seemingly only just remembering where they were.

"Apologies Professor; reflexes." one of them, wearing the golden armour, said trying to justify their actions.

"Of course." Ozpin said, quickly regaining his composure, straightening himself out and re-adjusting his glasses. He'd have to get his suit cleaned with all the soot on it now... if the water didn't completely ruin it.

"From all accounts, you've had a trying journey. I came here to show you the school, but something tells me I'll be needing someone to show much more than that." Ozpin said. "If you'll follow me, I'll direct you to the cafeteria whilst I find someone."

* * *

><p><strong>[Later in the cafeteria]<strong>

* * *

><p>"FOOD! GLORIOUS FOOD! No more diseased rat, mushroom kid and 'scroungeables' from Darkroot! No more weeks of having to subsist on Estus and souls!" Melanie shouted loudly, digging into some of the best meat and bread she'd ever had. She only stopped eating to take large gulps of Orange Juice from a tall glass and Estus from her flask.<p>

"Glad to know Mel's happy." Elric said in a heavily sarcastic tone.

"Says the one who wept as he sampled the bacon." Florence retorted as she dug unto her own food.

"Not like you were much better." Elric replied.

"Quiet, you."

Lukas simply rolled his eyes and continued eating as his travelling companions bickered. The Paladin hadn't been much one for talking during his meals after many long and silent dinners in the convent.

When they had entered the canteen, they were assaulted by the smell of food. And every one of them had begun to drool; it smelt so good.

They had all agreed that the food was much better than anything they had tasted before.

* * *

><p>Over at the other side of the cafeteria, the two teams of RWBY and JNPR were also eating their breakfast together.<p>

"Who are they?" Ruby asked as she looked over a few tables across from them where the four strangers, who had appeared in a flash of fire yesterday and had been led off by Professor Goodwitch, drew more than a few stares as one of them shouted in her native tongue.

Naturally Ruby and co. examined them; sizing them up as opponents attempting to tell who they were.

Each looked incredibly distinct, both in the face (what they could see of their faces), in the style of their armour and even the way they moved, leaving little doubt they were all raised in different countries to the more observant beacon students, though no one could say exactly where. Whilst each of them bore the hollowed out, emaciated look of someone exposed to prolonged conflict, they couldn't have possibly all come from one place.

The most immediately noticeable one was the one dressed up in a full-blown witch costume. She was wearing a long purple dress that reached to her ankles, a long coat that covered the back of the dress entirely, some kind of tattered cape that reached the small of her back and a large, broad-brimmed cone hat that was large enough to obscure most of her face. What they could see during the moments she did tilt her head back to drink or laugh, suggested what had once been soft, scholarly features, though the aura of sheer danger each of them seemingly exuded disabused notions that she was a thinker and not a fighter.

The next most noticeable was a man dressed in golden armour covered in some sort of white robe that seemed overly ornate. His chainmail jingled and plates clattered against one another as he moved around in the primitive suit, but he moved with apparent ease all the same, as if he'd worn the same armour for a long time. On the table next to him was a helmet of the same gold-coloured metal with a seemingly solid plate over where the visor should have been. Under the helmet was a chain coif that saw locks of platinum-blonde hair that slipped out to bother blue eyes, on a face that had raised a few murmurs about his 'handsome features', among other things.

The third member of their party was a flame-haired woman, whose hair cascaded down to her shoulders in a fashion eerily reminiscent of Yang. Her armour was made mostly from studded and boiled leather parts reinforced with steel, particularly along the shoulders and on the shins of her boots, though flashes of light from several holes in the leather suggested the presence of a breastplate. Occasionally, if they looked closely, they could see that her eyes were the same red tone as her hair. Everything about her spoke of energy, from her volume (though no one could understand a word of whatever language she was speaking), to her voracious appetite.

The final newcomer was a man dressed in rough hides and quilted fabrics, and wore his hood everywhere, even inside, obscuring his face. His most notable feature was the large shaggy pelt draped across his shoulders and quilted gambeson. What was visible suggested long hair and a pale complexion, though.

"Didn't you check the newsletter? They're foreign guests of Ozpin. They were apparently sent here to deal with some sort of technical issue." Blake answered.

"What's with those clothes? Did they rob a renaissance fair?" Weiss asked, none too subtly. "And what was with suddenly appearing in the middle of the cafeteria like that? They still haven't managed to put that sword out."

She indicated the sword that had a few students around it, watching as Cardin tried to put it out. The sword laughed in the face of all the water and chemical foams they had dumped on it, and continued to burn as if mocking them. Ozpin had been nice enough to put a small fence around it to keep people from falling into the fire at least.

"Why don't you ask them? They seem friendly enough." Yang suggested as she nudged her sister with her elbow.

"Great idea, Yang!" Ruby said, making her way over to the table occupied by the objects of their conversation, despite protests from Weiss.

* * *

><p>The four 'chosen' undead almost didn't know what to do with the... exuberant youth before them.<p>

Elric nudged Melanie and pointed at her scroll.

Melanie realized what Elric was getting at and clumsily attempted to open the translation program without much success, attempting to explain to the girl with a number of gestures that they didn't speak Deltoran, but the scroll could translate for them.

The girl could see Melanie struggling with the scroll and was able to help her with the unfamiliar technology, navigating through the smart device until she found the translation software.

Whilst the harsh robotic voice of the translator unnerved the four undead and grated on their ears, it allowed the girl, who was being joined by another three girls to hold a conversation.

"Thanks, all this is so new to us." Melanie said.

"You're welcome. I'm Ruby," the girl, now identified as Ruby, said, if the voice-to-foreign text translator was correct. Another marvel of the device.

"Greetings Ruby, I'm Melanie of Catarina. My companions here are Florence of Vinheim, Elric of Carim and Lukas of Thorolund."

"Is that where you're from?" Ruby asked bouncing on her feet.

"It is indeed," Melanie replied in a calm manner, hoping that her answers would placate the energetic child.

No one noticed Weiss behind Ruby until she spoke up. "I've never heard of places like that... and what is that Language you speak?"

"The Language is Astoran," Lukas replied.

"Astoran? You speak a dead language?" Blake asked.

Before they could answer, Team RWBY's scrolls all simultaneously rang.

On the screen was Professor Ozpin, his face as unreadable as ever.

"Ah Girls, I see you've met our new guests. I would like you to be their guides, as they have indeed come from the past and have much to adjust to, though I do not condone allowing this to become common knowledge. Answer any questions they may ask and show them around the school, we need them for an incredibly important task later."

"A-are you sure you should be asking us to do that, Professor?" Ruby asked.

"These four here require someone to teach them of our language, history, culture and society, as they will be staying here for some time, and you four are remarkably adept at finding the sort of trouble that requires a lot of paperwork on my part to clean up. This is my way of killing two birds with one stone. I'm sure miss Schnee would jump at the opportunity to show off some of the finer aspects of Vale. If you wish, feel free to have team JNPR help you out in this matter." Ozpin reasoned.

"Does anyone else here think that we're not exactly the most qualified people for the job?" Blake asked.

"Be that as it may, all I need you to do is show them daily life in Vale and at Beacon, there will be professors taking time out to teach them language and the history they've missed, I merely need you to... "lead by example", and the rest should fall into place." Ozpin explained.

"If you insist, we'll do it." Ruby said, flashing her teammates a smile to reassure them. "After all, they're just going to follow us around."

"Good. In addition I expect you to keep up with your schoolwork still... though this will count as extra credit... consider it an official mission." Ozpin said before ending the call with a final "good luck".

"Well, looks like you four are stuck with us." Yang said to the four companions, who each bore looks of apprehension as they read the text message that had appeared on their scrolls and glanced at team RWBY.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow... so I'm late with this upload, mostly because I kept getting sidetracked.<strong>

**I have no real excuses, other than the disclaimer in the description and that this is worked on on-and-off with no real schedule...**

**...on another note, R.I.P Monty Oum.**

**Though we wish you had stuck around longer before you crossed the veil and sailed to the shining shores, I can say that of all the candles, you truly did burn the brightest.**

**Taken from us before your time, we shall always remember you through the stunning work and creations you gave us, and the world is suddenly poorer for your loss.**

_**"...And it seems to me/ you lived your life like a candle in the wind (…) and I would've like to know you, but I was just a kid/ the candle burned out long before/ the legend ever did..." -Candle in the Wind, Elton John**_

**May you find peace in the next life. Amen.**

**Next Chapter: we find the second fire and kick this party into high gear!**

**TALLY HO!**


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